


(Wrap My Flesh) In Ivy and in Twine

by MG12CSI16



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Era, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Merthur - Freeform, Prompt Fill, Scar fic, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1645325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MG12CSI16/pseuds/MG12CSI16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His scars appear like stories mapped out on an alabaster canvas and Arthur makes it his personal duty to read each one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from Kweandee over on Fanfiction. 
> 
> The prompt was originally supposed to be Arthur/Merlin/Gwaine but I just couldn’t seem to work Gwaine in there and still keep the same idea I was going for so I just stuck with Merthur. It’s also a lot fluffier than I intended. Seriously I think I choked on it a bit. The ending is kind of sucky too because I couldn’t think of a good way to finish it off but I think it works.
> 
> Title comes from Below My Feet by Mumford and Sons.

They appear out of nowhere, white and gnarled as they weave themselves across his flesh and Arthur blinks, again and again until he realizes they aren’t going away and Merlin is staring at him from across the way with eyes shining so bright with humiliation it nearly hurts to look. His face (as impossible as it seems) pales drastically as Arthur steps forward, bare chested with his jaw slack, eyebrows knit tightly together as his eyes sweep back and forth over every line and bump on Merlin’s body.

He feels his stomach churn, the taste of bile on his tongue making his head swim and he runs a hand through his hair, uses the other to gesture at the expanse of Merlin’s chest and back and curses silently under his breath.

He pretends Merlin doesn’t flinch when he reaches a hand towards him.

“Merlin,” he breathes, “what…what happened to you?”

His warlocks eyes darken, bottom lip sucked in between his teeth as he gnaws it nervously. Arthur wonders why he won’t look at him, why he won’t speak or blink and _dammit Merlin why do you always make everything so difficult._

Arthur tries again, when Merlin is still standing there looking shocked and ready to run, only sending quick glances at the blond to see if he’s still staring at the expanse of puckered white and pink flesh that’s marking his normally flawless alabaster skin (he is). He keeps his distance this time, watching Merlin relax as he takes a small step backwards but doesn’t relent.

If anything, his voice comes out even harsher than the first time.

“ _Mer_ lin, I’m going to ask you again. What’s happened to you, where did all those scars come from all of a sudden?”

He thinks it may be the look in his eyes that makes Merlin soften; the desperate pleading and worry (he’s always worried about Merlin) that’s radiating itself across the room and taking over the very core of his being because Merlin is standing there shirtless and scared and he’s covered in scars.

Arthur thinks he may be sick.

It takes the warlock a long moment, one composed of too many deep breaths and finger nails that dig into his palms where they leave red, crescent shaped whelps (Arthur wonders if those will scar too) before he finally responds in a low, gravelly voice that makes Arthur’s heart lurch. 

“Don’t worry about them Arthur, it’s nothing.”

Arthur gapes.                                                                           

“Merlin they are not nothing. They’re _everywhere_ ,” he breathes and in the heat of the moment he forgets the whole ‘personal space’ thing and he reaches out to touch the ragged scar on Merlin’s bicep, eyes widening when his lover recoils and his ice blue eyes burn a furious shade of gold.

That’s when he finds himself being flung against the wall on the other side of the room, winded and a tiny bit terrified. Then the terror melts into worry because Merlin is staring at him, a look of disgust and horror warping his gorgeous features.

Then he runs.

Arthur watches him grab his shirt and pull it over his head, handkerchief clenched in his fist as his hurried footsteps echo down the halls and Arthur can only sit there and pretend his heart doesn’t feel as if someone’s just plunged a blade into it.

* * *

He goes straight to Gaius.

His instincts tell him to go find Merlin but Arthur knows (after years of dealing with him) that the best thing to do is to let him cool off. He can count on one hand the number of times Merlin’s lashed out with his magic and experience tells him time is the best thing he can give him right now.

That and he’d really like to know what the hell was going on. That was something Gaius was good for, he knows everything that goes on within the walls of the castle and Arthur knows better than anyone of the bond the elderly physician has with Merlin.

He knocks softly on the door before he eases it open, unable to react to the warm smile and greeting Gaius bestows on him. He crosses his arms over his chest, suddenly uncomfortable, and is thankful that the look on his face is enough to tell Gaius that something is wrong. Arthur’s not sure he could find the words even if he wanted to.

So instead he waits for Gaius to finish the salve he’s mixing up, sitting down on the stool Merlin usually occupies when he’s not in Arthur’s chambers, and tents his hands beneath his chin. Gaius joins him just a moment later and Arthur can tell he’s trying hard to keep a look of worry from staining his face.

“I need to speak with you about Merlin,” he says finally, folding his arms over his chest once more, suddenly uncomfortable.

Gaius’ face morphs, eyebrows knitting together and Arthur almost smiles (he wouldn’t be surprised if the old man thought he was seeking relationship advice) but he doesn’t and that alone lets Gaius know this is much more serious than that.

He sighs.

“Has he gotten himself into trouble?”

Arthur’s lips twitch at that but he shakes his head, eyes flitting around the room as he struggles to look Gaius in the eye. Part of him wonders if this was a mistake, if he should leave well enough alone and just apologize to Merlin. Another part of him knows that isn’t even an option.

“No, well at least I don’t think so. We were…engaging in activities earlier and while he was dressing I noticed all these scars appearing over his body. Nasty ones Gaius, much like the ones my knights have received in battle. And when I questioned him of their origins he lashed out and ran, I don’t actually know where he is right now but I thought it best to leave him be for a while.”

Gaius nods. “Yes, sire, that was probably for the best.”

Arthur narrows his eyes a bit, noting the lack of surprise on Gaius’ face. If anything he merely looked a bit sad. Then he slowly stands from the table and moves towards his workbench, fingers wrapping around a bottle of viscous, blue salve that he sets down in front of Arthur.

All he can do is stare.

 He picks it up after a few seconds, curiosity grabbing hold of him as he twirls the bottle between his fingers and finally looks back at his physician.

“What is it?”

“It’s a salve I concocted for Merlin a few years back. It’s been enchanted with a spell that wards off the appearance of the scars.”

Arthur closes his eyes.

“You’re telling me Merlin has had these scars for years and no one knows?”

“Yes sire.”

This time it’s Arthur’s turn to sigh, running his hands through his hair and tugging the ends in frustration because _how in the bloody hell could he be such a dense sod?_ All the years Merlin’s been by his side in battles, fighting off bandits and facing Morgana more times than Arthur cares to remember and he was under the impression that he escaped without harm _every time_.

He really thinks he’s going to be sick.

* * *

Arthur thanks Gaius as he goes, slowly coming to his feet and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, a torrent of emotions and thoughts bombarding him at once. He needs to find Merlin.

He’s exactly where Arthur thinks he’ll be, sitting on the edge of the castle wall with his legs dangling over the edge, moonlight washing over his face and creating shadows against his defined cheekbones. Wordlessly Arthur approaches him, notes the way his shoulders tense as Arthur slings his own legs over the side and sits down.

A few knights move below them, tiny and distorted from the height and Arthur follows their movements with tired eyes, wishes Merlin would say something and sighs when he doesn’t. The air holds a thick tension as they sit there, Merlin’s sad eyes closing as a cool breeze wraps around them and a shiver travels through his body. Instinct has Arthur reaching out to pull his thin body towards his own, pausing when he remembers the incident from earlier and pulls his arm back to his side.

He settles for words instead.

“I’m sorry I pushed you earlier, I was worried.”

Merlin’s voice is soft. “I know.”

“I was surprised I guess. I thought maybe I was crazy and imagining them but there were too many.”

He pauses shortly before he looks over at Merlin who doesn’t say anything and his voice drops to a scared whisper. “I went to Gaius.”

Arthur supposes he was expecting a different reaction, one of anger maybe or surprise and irritation but Merlin simply sighs and scoots just a little closer to Arthur. “Did he tell you about them?”

“No, he just showed me the salve and told me about the spell. I want to hear the rest from _you_ Merlin.”

It seems like a thousand emotions are suddenly visible on his warlocks face, coloring him an unexplainable shade of melancholy as his shoulders suddenly sag and Arthur actually sees him give up the fight. He turns sad blue eyes in the direction of the king.

“The day I stepped into Camelot and every day since I’ve used my magic to protect you. Saving your life is second nature to me, it's my destiny. But sometimes...sometimes I don’t let you see the whole truth. These scars…they’re from years of wars and fighting at you side, from things you don't even know about.”

He must have caught the look on the blonde's face because he narrows his eyes and adds,

”And don’t give me that look because this is not your fault. The only place I’d rather be is at your side and you know it.”

Arthur snaps his head up at that, mouth slightly agape as guilt seeps into his chest and constricts him with a force so great he nearly forgets how to breathe. He drops his head on Merlin’s shoulder, breathing in his scent and wanting nothing more than to wrap him in his embrace and wish it all away.

“Why do you keep them hidden?” he finally asks, voice muffled by the red handkerchief that’s once again found its place around his lovers neck.

Merlin shifts uncomfortably beneath them, something akin to a chuckle escaping his lips only this one is void of humor. It’s much too dark for Arthur’s taste (much too dark to come from Merlin).

“I’m already enough of a freak as it is Arthur. I don’t want people to look at me in disgust, because when my scars are visible that’s what I am.”

Tears well in his eyes now, cutting Arthur’s heart to shreds as he wipes them away with the pad of his thumb and kisses the salty wet paths that lead down his cheek. He cups Merlin’s cheek in his hand, turning his strikingly pale face towards him as their foreheads rest against each other and warm breath bounces off their cheeks.

“Merlin, you are _not_ vile or disgusting or any of the other ridiculous things you can of. Your scars are reminders of all the things you’ve done; for me, for Camelot, for the people. And I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that all of this has happened to you.”

The last words are a broken whisper as they fall from his numb lips, sailing away with the wind as Merlin burrows into his side and long fingers curl around his shirt in desperation. Arthur wonders if anyone’s spotted them yet, sky high above everyone else as they tangle around each other and Arthur pretends he doesn’t feel Merlin shaking against his chest as his fingers dig into his flesh.

Arthur doesn’t move until Merlin pulls away, rubbing at his eyes and gifting the blond with a small smile. Arthur feels the weight lift from his shoulders at the sight although he knows they’ve only begun to scratch the surface. Despite knowing of Merlin’s magic and allowing himself to act on the feelings he had once hidden there was still so much he didn’t know, things he knew he wouldn’t begin to fathom and the desire to discern them all was nearly overwhelming.

He just hopes they have enough time.

* * *

He’s not surprised when Merlin follows him to his chambers, collapsing onto the bed as Arthur moves to his wardrobe and strips himself of his clothes before coming over and sliding into bed beside him. Merlin lies on his back, staring at the ceiling and pressing himself into Arthur’s side once more.

Merlin’s shirt was still on but Arthur could see some of the more prominent scars that peeked out from beneath the fabric, eyes tracing them until they disappeared once more. Slowly Arthur reaches out, fingers gripping the hem of the garment as his eyes sought out Merlin, asking the silent question he can’t seem to bring himself to ask aloud.

He’s surprised when Merlin nods, situating himself and allowing Arthur to pull the shirt over his head, revealing the marked skin beneath. For a moment Arthur just stares, taking in every line and bump, taking note of the shape and size of each one before he finally reaches out a shaky hand and traces his fingers across the puckered white flesh.

Merlin shivers beneath his touch but never speaks, staring ahead as Arthur explores him. In his haste to know every inch of his warlock Arthur sits up and gently straddles Merlin, relishing the surprised gasp as he situates himself across his hips.

He starts at his chest, jagged lines carved into the flesh and he leans down to kiss each of them, lingering on the one that stands out most. It’s long, stretching from his sternum to his right shoulder, and he can’t stop the question from throwing itself towards Merlin as his breath ghosts across his skin.

“Where did this one come from?”

Merlin’s hand comes up and touches the injury, eyes closed in thought as if it were a chore to remember (than Arthur realizes there are so many scars that it actually might be the truth) before he lets out a breath.

“Bandit attack. You were busy helping Sir Leon and I didn’t realize one was coming up beside me. He caught me with his blade but I managed to heal myself before you or any of the other knights noticed.”

Arthur swallows thickly as he listens to Merlin, hands running over his flesh, notices the way he arches into the touch and leans down to capture his lips between his own. A hand fists in his hair as another settles on his hip, tongues clashing and teeth nipping at soft lips before Arthur has to pull away.

There was a time for that, but he knew it wasn’t now.

He finishes exploring the front of Merlin’s body, occasionally questioning the origins of some of the healed wounds. He’s surprised that Merlin is so forthcoming, sharing the details of each incident as Arthur kisses and caresses his body because _god Merlin, you are so beautiful._

Eventually he coaxes Merlin onto his back, arms folded beneath his head as Arthur’s eyes are instantly drawn to a definitive shape on his lower back. He eyes it with suspicion and when his fingers touch the spot Merlin speaks without the need for Arthur to utter a word.  

“It’s a serket sting. Morgause wanted me out of the way after I found out about the plan to kill Uther.”

Arthur breathes, lungs burning with the effort because each story just seems to make him angrier. He should have been able to protect Merlin, even when his job was to protect the once and future king he never seemed to worry about himself. The thought makes Arthur’s stomach clench a bit.

A few more scars stand out as he kisses every inch of Merlin’s body, hands marking and claiming his lover even though he knows no one would _dare_ lay a hand on him. There’s one on his thigh (“wrestling with Will when we were kids, I lost my footing and fell on some rocks”), some mark his wrists (“handcuffs, they really should make them out of something softer.”), others are scattered and Arthur wants to know every story but he can see the exhaustion on Merlin’s face and he knows he’s already been given more than he deserves.

He can wait.

He eases himself down beside Merlin when he's finished, running a hand through raven locks as he blinks sleepily at him and Arthur leans forward to take Merlin’s lips again and he breathes a “quiet thank you” into his mouth.  When Merlin pulls away he looks puzzled, his ice cold feet pressing against Arthur’s legs and making him jump.

“What’re you thanking me for?” he asks lazily.

“For telling me,” Arthur says, “you didn’t have to but I’m glad you did.”

Merlin shrugs. “I’d do anything for you Arthur, you know that.”

Yes, he did. He knew damn well just how far Merlin would go for him. It had taken some time to figure it out but he knew now and the thought caused unexplainable warmth to blossom within him. And now, as Merlin nestles deeper in the sheets, rhythmic breathing echoing in his ears, Arthur realizes just how lucky he is.    


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the plot bunny attacked me and demanded I write a second chapter to this (like six months ago; I’m lazy like that) and after some consideration I realized I actually really liked the idea of making this story a bit more fluffy and thus, chapter two was born. And when I say fluffy, I mean tooth rotting sap because I can. It doesn’t really go with the original prompt chapter one was written for (technically part of it does, but overall not really) but I think if you squint you can pretend it does. 
> 
> Again, credit goes to Kweandee for the original prompt and I, of course, own nothing.

It’s one of the hotter days in Camelot when they find themselves nestled atop the soft grass of the meadow, the summer sun beating relentlessly down on them as Merlin’s head rests lazily on Arthur’s chest. His slender fingers are moving slowly through Arthur’s honey colored hair, the other hand resting over the rhythmic beating of his heart.

It’s a slow day, one where they do nothing but relax in each other’s company because it’s much too hot for training and they both know if they stay in the castle there’s absolutely no chance of avoiding interruptions. So instead they sneak out not long after breakfast, fingers laced together as they move through the trees and their faces are lit with smiles and childlike glee, as if this was a secret all their own that no one else was to know of.

The meadow is some ways into the woods, hidden behind a hill just above the stream that runs through the heart of the trees, practically invisible if you’re not looking for it. Sometimes Merlin thinks that’s what he likes best about it, the fact that no one’s besides Arthur knows of his secret, and disappearing is almost as easy as breathing.

He remembers the day Arthur found out about it, when an argument had sent Merlin running for the cover of the trees and the sound of the rushing water as he lay beneath the clouds and let the sun warm his skin. He’d barely heard the footsteps, so entranced with the images the clouds were painting above his head that he’d failed to hear Arthur until he’d dropped down beside him in the grass and the shocked look on Merlin’s face had enticed a humored chuckle from the king.

_“How’d you find me?”_

_“Please Merlin; I’m one of the best trackers this kingdom has ever seen. Surely you didn’t think you could stay hidden from me?”_

_“You are an insufferable prat, you know?”_

_“Yeah, I know.”_

Needless to say Merlin had been able to cross _have sex with Arthur somewhere besides the castle_ off his list after that day and ever since they’ve found themselves retreating to the same spot when they simply wanted to be alone.

Today is one of those days and Merlin is absolutely relishing the feel of the breeze on his skin and Arthur’s arm wrapped around his waist. Lazily he raises his head, watching Arthur’s cerulean eyes follow the clouds as they float by and when he presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth the blond looks to him, a small smile tugging at his still swollen lips.

“Something on your mind?” he inquires, eyes flashing with that subtle hint of mischief that makes Merlin’s stomach knot in the best way possible.

The raven haired man smiles, the hand that’s resting on Arthur’s chest carefully snaking its way down, under the fabric of his shirt so Merlin can feel his warmth. His calloused fingers are rough against the smooth skin and Arthur sucks in a series of tiny breaths as Merlin moves across his body, lips and hands tasting and feeling as the King moans below him and Merlin thinks if he doesn’t stop now they’ll never leave.

He positions himself until he’s centered across Arthur’s hips, resisting the urge to grind against the hardness pressing against him and instead leaning down to press open mouthed kisses to the expanse of Arthur’s chest. His skin is sweet with a musk that is so distinctly Arthur that Merlin thinks he’d know it anywhere, tastes it on his tongue as he moves down Arthur torso and his hands are bruising themselves into Arthur’s hips and _gods_ there was no way they were going to make it back for supper tonight.

He continues moving across Arthur as if it’s the first time he’s laid hands on him, goes from being gentle and slow to hard and demanding and Arthur absolutely keens beneath him. Merlin’s almost sure the noises coming from the blonde’s mouth are enough to break him but then his fingers flick across the jagged, puffed skin just below Arthur’s heart and Merlin feels himself freeze.

Arthur eyes flick open then, settling on Merlin’s broken face before he’s sitting up and trying to grab at Merlin to pull him close.

“Merlin,” he says gently, “It’s alright. Come here.”

He beckons Merlin forward with the crook of his finger, hands curling around his warlock’s shoulders and pulling him in until the younger man collapses against his chest with a defeated sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, “I’m sorry.”

Arthur practically deflates at the sound of Merlin’s voice, so small and sad and far away despite his close proximity. It pains him to see Merlin like this, racked with guilt and fear despite the fact that the past was a ways behind them and they were safe and _alive_.  

Pressing a kiss to the mess of black hair Arthur waits for Merlin to calm himself, gently breathing in Arthur’s scent and digging his fingers into the meat of Arthur’s thigh as if tethering himself to reality when his mind wanted so badly to let him slip away.

After a moment’s time he finally looks up, attempts a small but weak smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes but let’s Arthur know that the worst part is behind them.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, “It’s just…hard to think about what almost happened, you know? That if I hadn’t been able to save you…”

Arthur cut Merlin off with a stern look and a rough kiss that was sure to bruise, pulling back just enough to whisper against the warlock’s lips, “Don’t ever think like that Merlin. What happened was no fault of yours and _if_ things had ended differently don’t ever believe for one second that it would have been your fault.”

Merlin takes in a deep breath and his gaze drifts downward, as if he hears what Arthur’s saying but can’t quite bring himself to believe it. Arthur lets out a growl at that and pulls back, shucking off his shirt and tossing it to the side, Merlin’s confusion purely evident on his face as he stares at his king (who very well may have lost his mind).

It’s not until Arthur reaches forward and grabs Merlin’s hand, bringing it to the scar from Mordred’s blade and splaying the fingers across the still pink flesh that things begin to make sense.

“Merlin, look at me,” Arthur’s voice is demanding, kingly, and Merlin finds himself doing as commanded with little hesitation. “This scar is a memory of the past. It does not dictate the future, _our_ future, any more than yours do. Every day when I look at it I’m reminded of everything I almost lost and everything I should be thankful for, especially you.”

As Arthur’s voice trails off Merlin feels his heart clench with untamable love and admiration for the man in front of him, nearly unable to comprehend the emotion that floods Arthur’s voice when he speaks, trying so hard to get Merlin to see what he can’t seem to make himself understand.

Because although Arthur is here with him now Merlin constantly dreams of worlds where his lover is gone and the guilt slowly eats at him. And then, when he remembers how close to this reality they actually came it infects his thoughts like a sickness. In the past his own scars were reminders of his destiny, how he protected Arthur down to his nearly dying breath time and time again but the mark that rests so close to Arthur’s heart only serves as the reminder that he was almost too late last time and for Merlin it's nearly too much to bear.

Arthur seems to sense what’s going through Merlin’s head because he leans in and kisses him again and again until Merlin’s nearly dizzy and his breath comes in soft little gasps that ghost across Merlin’s cheek.

“You cannot protect me from everything, you know?”

And Merlin manages a smile at that, pressing against his lover and nipping at his bottom lip until he moans, fingers still resting over the reminder that will never fade.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying.”

**_End_ **


End file.
